


I feel a weakness coming on

by brutallyamish



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-28
Updated: 2011-03-28
Packaged: 2017-10-17 08:15:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/174762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brutallyamish/pseuds/brutallyamish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"She thought she was prepared. She was counting on Seventeen. She didn’t expect Desmond Miles."</p>
            </blockquote>





	I feel a weakness coming on

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vindiya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vindiya/gifts).



> Title inspired by "The Walk" by Imogen Heap. The song inspired the piece too, and there are a few lines of the song in here if you look.

She prided herself in her control; control over her emotions, over everything that could possibly happen, always prepared, never surprised.

Until now.

And she fell from her pedestal, and she fell far.

-

There had been subjects before him, there was Sixteen, and she was sure there was something beautiful about him before the Bleeding Effect drained him, making him hollow and confused, before he painted the walls with symbols no one would understand until the next subject and his vision.

Seventeen. That’s how he had started. He was nameless and faceless when she received first word. For a while, he stayed that way. She was afraid getting too close and losing him like Sixteen would break her resolve; she still couldn’t forgive herself for letting Sixteen melt away, for not seeing the signs until it was too late.

Underneath all the planning, she was still afraid; afraid that she was going to be trapped here, afraid of what they’d do once they got what they needed from him, afraid he would crack and bleed like Sixteen. So she planned more, for every possible thing. Everything was whittled down to possibilities, what could happen and what she could do. She thought she was prepared. She was counting on Seventeen. She didn’t expect _Desmond Miles._

-

Back when they first met, he wouldn’t retire right away, instead waiting for Vidic to leave so he could talk to her. It really started out as angry questioning, the standard “what am I doing here,” and “what is all this,” but they leveled out after the first couple days. He was always a little on edge, probably his heritage, his training, she would muse, but nearing the end of his allotted week, he had started opening up to her.

He was just supposed to be the key, the map, but he started to become more, and that was more frightening than the Templars. She was losing her grip, becoming reckless; the botched rescue could be blamed on her crumbling nerves. When the last of her would-be rescuers fell, so too did her heart. Desmond didn’t seem to really understand what had happened, but was engaged with Vidic, the two shouting at each other until the latter left, smug look on his withered face. She tried to forget that look.

When the gravity of the failed attempt sunk in, Desmond lashed out at her. She felt more hopeless than he did, and was trying to convince herself to have faith as she tried to convince him.

-

She was twisting, falling and there was no end in sight. When she could focus on other things, it seemed manageable, but in the long hours it took to drive to the warehouse, she couldn’t stop thinking about the man in her trunk, how she literally fought her way out of Abstergo just because there was no losing him. By this point, he was much more than the map, but she kept trying to deny what she felt, what she could see if she took the time to actually _look_ into his eyes.

Surrounded by the others she could hide better. Studying Abstergo’s patterns, watching their movements, she was more distracted. Her feelings weren’t safe; not when they threatened everything. She’d worked hard for this balance and it was all starting to rock and she didn’t know what to expect if it ever tumbled down.

-

It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. He was under her skin, he was so close and she couldn’t shake the feeling. She couldn’t run far or fast enough to escape him. He seemed utterly oblivious to the war raging inside her, more occupied by the war raging in the real world, the war that they were fighting right now, the one she should be focusing on, but she was starting to slip.

She didn’t want to give in and lose everything, but she didn’t want to continue this way. There was no way she could abandon him or Shaun or Rebecca. They all counted on her, she was the rock, the foundation, the _plan_ , but she was losing control.

She nearly made a fatal error when Vidic stormed their warehouse. She had enough sense to aid Desmond, but she needed to figure this out or next time she would lose much more than a warehouse.

-

She didn’t want to feel this way, weak and confused, and it was all his fault. She was stronger than this, wasn’t she? Her most recent mistake had shaken her a bit, but it did nothing for the battle raging inside her.

He had changed over the time they’d been together. He wasn’t the angry bartender shouting curses at a pharmaceutical company she had met weeks ago. She wished she could tell him to stop being everything that made her shake at the seams, everything that made everything she had ever known seem irrelevant. That smile, his voice, the way he walked, the things he said, the way he looked at her, the fear behind confident eyes, the _trust_ he had in her. It was all too much. He was making it so hard for her to focus.

-

When the Bleeding Effect started to manifest in the same ways that ended Sixteen, she couldn’t stop her heart from beating. He always came to her, telling her what he saw, how long they were, asking her what was going to happen to him. She wished he would ask someone else. The worse they got, the harder it was for her to handle until she broke down. She was too strong (too proud?) to cry, but she turned away, her hands in her hair, gripping the strands brutally.

When she pulled her hands away, she was sure they were shaking. She excused herself. She was actually crumbling at this point, all her strength at a critical low. She was so worried about the Bleeding Effect she was forgetting about the map, about the other teams, about Vidic, about the war.

There was a hand at the bend of her arm. She could feel the heat through her jacket. Everything started to fall away and she couldn’t move. She couldn’t help but look at him when he asked her what was wrong. Her first words were an apology, but they didn’t seem to be enough.

There was a softness in his eyes that she didn’t want to believe. This wasn’t a part of the plan. His hand was still at her elbow, fingers wrapped around, holding firmly though she knew they would fall away if she pulled back even the slightest bit. She tried to remind herself that she didn’t want to feel this way, but she was under siege. Her hand rested on top of his and still she tried to deny everything as she claimed to be okay.

He smiled warmly and called her a bad liar as his other hand rested on her cheek. She felt her resolve break when he leaned in. Past the point of no return, she gave in.

She gave in, gave up control, and for now, right now, it was all she wanted.


End file.
